


Controlled

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Clumsiness, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ukai is sure, now, that he has lost control of the situation." Takeda takes control before Ukai realizes he has lost it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Controlled

Ukai is sure, now, that he has lost control of the situation.

He can’t pinpoint exactly when his grasp started slipping. He’s sure it was before he came in the front door of Takeda’s apartment, because that was closely followed by Takeda’s mouth against his and everything has been a haze since then. He  _thinks_  he had it together before he left the store to meet the other man for dinner. But sometime during the meal and the conversation and the casual touching, knee to knee and fingers at his wrist and a shoulder bumping his arm, Ukai entirely lost any vestige of composure in favor of giving himself up entirely to Takeda’s mercy.

It wasn’t conscious. He didn’t start out the night with the intention of ending up where he is, at least not explicitly. But he can’t find the words to protest the movements of the man straddling his lap, isn’t sure he really would complain if he had coherency left. Takeda’s fingers are pushing his hairband free, Takeda’s lips are pressed warm against the pulse in his throat, Takeda’s weight is settled over his legs, and when Ukai tries to say something it just comes out as a groan.

“Keishin,” Takeda whimpers into his throat, and that’s not fair at  _all_. Takeda’s the one doing the moving, he’s the one with his fingers shoving up under the blond’s shirt; he has  _no_  right to sound as breathless and desperate as he does. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He’s moving up Ukai’s jaw, trailing kisses as he goes, the too-fast pace of his breathing loud in the blond’s ear. “Please.”

Ukai doesn’t want Takeda to stop. He’s not sure, exactly, what the other has in mind, doesn’t want to assume too much and then be disappointed, but there are definitely fingers sliding over his chest and Takeda shifting against his lap, and there’s not enough focus in his head for him to do more than huff what he hopes sounds like agreement and turn his head in to catch Takeda’s mouth. That works, for a moment, gives him the damp glide of lips on his own in counterpoint to the ticklish touch of fingers across his ribcage; then Takeda’s moving again, pressing his lips to Ukai’s cheekbone, the arch of his eyebrow, sliding his free hand into the loose fall of bleached hair to push it back from Ukai’s face.

“I want you,” Takeda says against Ukai’s forehead, adjusts his weight so he’s grinding down into the blond’s lap again. Ukai lets all his air out in a rush, reaches to grab at Takeda’s hip though he’s not sure if he’s trying to push the other away or drag him down. “Can I? Please?” His voice is dragging high and pleading, strained around want, and Ukai can’t breathe for how hot all the air around him is going.

“Are--” His words stick in his throat, he  _is_  rocking up against Takeda’s weight without thinking. Takeda makes a funny sound, a groan and a gasp at the same time, his fingers scrape over Ukai’s skin. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Takeda laughs. “I am.” The sound of amusement is warm on Ukai’s skin, fluttering through his hair as Takeda’s fingers slide down his skin, catch at the top of his jeans. “Is it working, or do you want me to keep begging?”

It’s working, of  _course_  it’s working. Ukai opens his mouth to say so, tilts his chin up in pursuit of Takeda’s lips, and is just starting to speak when fingers work the button on his jeans free, tug his zipper down.

“It’s --  _oh_.” His heart skips up into double-time, pounds so loud he can hear the sound echo in his ears. “ _Jesus_.”

“ _Keishin_.” That’s slow, appreciative, a  _purr_  more than ordinary speech, and Takeda is breathing so fast Ukai can hear his inhales. His fingers are coming around the cover of Ukai’s jeans, fitting between the heavy cloth and the thinner cover of his boxers so he’s fitting his palm in to curl around hot skin, nearly close enough to touch, and Ukai is rocking up sharply for more. Takeda tips forward, almost falls, has to catch himself on Ukai’s shoulder, but he doesn’t move his hand, he’s grinding friction down against the other’s cock with unexpected dexterity under the motion of his wrist. Ukai can hear the hiss of the other’s breathing, unfairly loud when Takeda’s not even being properly touched, but then that thought touches home and he realizes his hands are stalled, pointless and still at Takeda’s hips instead of  _doing_  something.

“Sensei,” he says. Takeda huffs appreciation of the title, laughs a tiny breathy noise of approval while Ukai reaches up to hook two fingers inside the loose loop of his tie so he can slide the knot loose. “Lemme take this off.”

“Sorry for being in a rush,” Takeda offers immediately. “I just want to  _touch_  you” and he’s not stopping, he’s not giving Ukai even a minute to work his clothes loose before he’s lifting his hand, catching fabric with his fingertips and turning his wrist to slide his fingers down inside Ukai’s boxers instead of atop them. His fingers are narrow, thinner than Ukai’s, and they’ve always looked fragile to the blond’s consideration, but skin-to-skin they become dangerously dexterous, brushing over his stomach and down to the head of his cock as if Takeda knows on instinct where the most sensitive corners are and how best to break apart Ukai’s concentration.

“ _Ah_ ,” Ukai stammers as Takeda sighs a whine against his neck and his fingers tighten so he can pull half-a-stroke of friction up over the blond’s length. “You’re -- you’re really  _good_  at this, sensei.”

Takeda’s smile is bright enough that Ukai can see the flash of it, even in his periphery. “Really?”

“I would never have guessed,” Ukai teases, although his tone comes out more breathless and less ironic than he intended. He’s nearly halfway down the buttons on Takeda’s white shirt, now, enough that he can lean in and kiss the clear edge of the other’s shoulderblade as it comes free of the fabric. Takeda shudders, tips his head back for a moment, but the movement of his fingers stays steady, keeps drawing Ukai’s attention away from what he’s trying to do.

“You look so  _innocent_ ,” the blond continues, still struggling for amusement even though his throat is fluttering in response to the slide of Takeda’s fingers over him. His words keep dipping low and shaky in his throat, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t ask Takeda to stop or even to slow down. “I had no idea you were such a…” Takeda’s grip tightens around him, strokes up sharp and sudden all at once so Ukai loses his words entirely. “ _Unnn_.”

“What am I?” Takeda asks. Ukai can hear amusement in his throat, a faint purr of entertainment and curiosity at once. Takeda curls in closer, presses against Ukai’s forehead so the blond can feel the sigh gust warm against his hairline. “Such a what, Keishin?”

“You’re a tease,” Ukai gasps, which isn’t what he was going to say but is the first statement to come easily to mind under the slide of Takeda’s palm up over him.

“I’m not,” Takeda protests. He lets Ukai’s hip go, reaches to manage the bottom buttons on his shirt, where the blond’s hold has stalled out into a desperate hold at his waist. “I’m not trying to tease you.” His shirt falls open and Ukai presses in closer, slides his hands around to the other’s back to settle his palms against the tension in Takeda’s spine. “I just want to touch you.”

“You are,” Ukai points out. He’s breathing against Takeda’s skin, almost-kissing the other’s chest but for the lack of deliberate tension at his mouth. Takeda is still stroking up over him, a little jerkily and a little awkwardly but more than enough for Ukai’s breathing to come faster, enough for him to rock up reflexively into Takeda’s touch so they both shift and would fall but for Takeda rocking back at the last minute to counterbalance.

Ukai has to take a breath before he can reform words. “You  _are_  touching me, and you’re still mostly dressed, what about that is fair?”

“I’m very determined,” Takeda says, and it sounds a little like a moan and mostly like a laugh. “Single-minded until I get what I want.”

“Is that a challenge?” Ukai asks his shoulder. He doesn’t wait for a response before he slides one hand around Takeda’s waist, pressing against the flat warmth of his stomach so he can catch at the fastenings of the other’s pants with his fingers.

Takeda sighs all at once, arches in closer so he’s pressed up against Ukai’s chest and the movement of his hand is somewhat interrupted. Ukai would complain, except that this close he can feel the hot resistance of Takeda’s cock pressing against his fingers even through the barrier of his clothes, can feel how Takeda’s breathing stutters at the accidental pressure.

Ukai isn’t sure how he gets Takeda’s pants open. He’s hardly thinking about it at all, just pressing fingers against skin and dragging down until he encounters resistance, pushing and tugging at fabric until the button or the zipper gives way and gives him access to another inch of skin. Finally it’s enough, slack in the other’s jeans and just the elastic edge of boxers, and Ukai can drag the fabric down and far enough aside for him to match Takeda’s hold on his own length.

Takeda’s reaction is immediate. He shudders a gasp, the trembling motion running through his entire body, and Ukai is grinning is satisfaction even though Takeda’s grip goes slack against him. Takeda’s rocking up over his knees, pressing in for more and breathing hard against Ukai’s hair, and he’s blistering hot under Ukai’s fingers, radiant and slick as soon as Ukai starts to stroke over him.

Ukai thinks he’s gained the upper hand. Takeda is up over his knees, both hands braced at the blond’s shoulders and leaning in so Ukai has to offer deliberate pushback to keep them from falling. Rationally he’s aware he should probably get them both stripped down further, knows that the advantage of skin-to-skin contact would outweigh the trouble of pulling apart for a moment, but in practice he can’t delay the gratification long enough to manage it. Instead he presses in closer, breathes in against the heat of Takeda’s shoulder, and he is fully prepared to jerk Takeda off without ever getting any more of their clothes off.

It’s Takeda who musters the necessary composure. He’s still breathing hard, still shaking up through his entire body, but after a minute trembling fingers close at Ukai’s wrist, ease his touch up and away.

“ _Sensei_ ,” Ukai protests, whining the word against Takeda’s skin, but the other is already moving away, leaning backwards and sliding across the sheets and out-of-reach.

“Just a sec,” he says. He’s sprawling over the bed, stretching to reach for the table alongside the mattress, and Ukai lets him, occupies himself with taking advantage of the pause to strip his t-shirt off before starting to pull Takeda’s jeans off his hips and down his legs. The other wiggles helpfully, rolls onto his side so he can kick a leg free; it’s not a particularly graceful motion, it  _shouldn’t_  be a turn-on, but it does result in a sudden increase in the amount of bare skin. Ukai’s still staring just at that when Takeda tips over onto his back so Ukai can tug his pants off completely, and the flushed-pink of his skin and the slick heat of his cock is enough to draw a groan from Ukai’s throat even before he sees what Takeda is fumbling with.

“Here,” he says, reaching for the bottle as the other pushes his glasses straight and starts to open the cap. “I can do it.”

It sounds like an offer; what it doesn’t sound like is the raw want that it feels like in his skin, the desperate desire so strong the idea of sliding lube-slick fingers over Takeda’s skin makes his cock twitch without any direct contact at all. But Takeda jerks his head in negation, twists the cap open and slicks his fingers with such efficiency Ukai’s mouth goes dry, because that’s the motion of  _experience_  and it brings a mental image with it so strong he can’t catch his breath for a moment.

“I’ve got this,” he insists, and he’s sitting up, folding in on himself so Ukai is distracted from the way he’s rocking up on his heel and angling his leg wide by the part of damp lips so close to his. Ukai leans in closer for a kiss and Takeda turns his head up, lets Ukai come in close so they’re just starting to kiss when he shifts his hand and whimpers in reaction against the blond’s mouth.

Ukai is the one who pulls back, all his blood surging hot in his veins, and Takeda leans in to follow him, his eyes glazed and eyelashes fluttering heavy as he slides his fingers in deeper. Ukai chokes on a breath, reaches out to touch whatever of Takeda’s skin he can find; his hand settles against the gasping inhale of Takeda’s ribcage, his other drags across Takeda’s hip to the tense heat of his cock, and he’s just closing his fingers around the other’s length when Takeda groans, tips forward to let Ukai support his weight while he slides his legs wide and curls in around the thrust of his hand.

Ukai’s heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing gasping fast like he’s stroking over himself instead of up against Takeda. He wishes he could see what the other is doing; as it is he’s getting telegraphed response, the shiver of reaction or a moan of stuttering pleasure, but he doesn’t know what movement is drawing that, isn’t certain of the angle of Takeda’s wrist or the strength of his thrusts. Still, the secondhand response is enough, satisfying and rippling delight through him until he’s shaking as badly as Takeda, isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold them upright on his own.

“Ah,” Takeda gasps, and he’s grabbing at Ukai’s wrist, uncurling his spine and sliding his fingers free so he can brace himself at the blond’s shoulders. His shirt is still on but it’s barely covering him at all, is just hanging off his shoulders so it flutters against his hip when he swings his leg up to straddle Ukai’s thighs. Ukai doesn’t process that his jeans are still on until Takeda’s weight is pressed against him, some of the heat of contact lost to the denim between them.

“Shit,” he blurts, lets go of Takeda’s hip so he can push at the fabric. “Let me just--”

“It’s fine,” Takeda talks over him, grabs at his wrist to pull his hand back. When Ukai looks up the other’s eyes are blown dark with anticipation, his breathing coming so fast Ukai is surprised he can speak. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Ukai asks. His pants are open and pushed down by a few inches but it’s not enough for him to move effectively at all, but Takeda is so warm and so close he can’t make himself offer more than token resistance.

“Yeah,” Takeda insists, and lets go of Ukai’s shoulder to close his fingers around the blond’s cock again. That’s enough of an argument in favor of his point for Ukai; the sensation steals his protests off his tongue, brings him arching up into the contact, and Takeda slides in closer, rocks his weight up over his knees and presses himself into Ukai’s chest. Ukai grabs at his hips, some half-formed idea of stopping him or at least slowing his motion, and then Takeda fits their bodies together and starts to sink himself down onto the blond’s cock, and any thought Ukai had beyond appreciation disintegrates.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, sounding breathless and shocked; Takeda doesn’t speak, but he’s pressing his face in against Ukai’s shoulder, gasping for breath like he has to think about every inhale, and he’s still moving, sliding down and whiting out Ukai’s coherency into heat as he goes. Ukai’s fingertips dig in against Takeda’s hips, do nothing at all to stop his motion, and then Takeda’s hips settle against Ukai’s and they both pause to catch a breath.

“Jesus,” Ukai manages, and Takeda laughs weakly against his shoulder, shifts his hands to hold himself steady against Ukai’s shoulders, and starts to move again. Ukai doesn’t mean to groan but that’s what he does, opens his mouth on a sound so low it comes straight from the heat firing his blood without any consideration of his actual voice along the way. Takeda’s glasses are off-center, Ukai can feel the frames pressing lopsided against his shoulder, but the other’s mouth is kissing at his throat and he’s rocking up and forward and dragging sensation over Ukai until he can’t steady his hands for adrenaline.

“Here,” he manages, lets go of Takeda’s hip to push at his shoulder and urge the other back by a few inches. He goes obediently, rocks his weight back enough that it stalls Ukai’s breathing, and then the blond gets a good look at his expression and his exhale turns into a groan. Takeda’s glasses  _are_  off-center, they’re half-fogged and probably ineffective even before Ukai reaches up to slide them free and set them at the corner of the bed. But Takeda’s eyes are out-of-focus, they’re hazel and caramel and liquid copper, and his mouth is open on damp gasping breaths that draw Ukai in closer, leaning for a kiss while he feels for the heat of Takeda’s cock without looking. He makes it to the kiss first, has the soft of Takeda’s parting lips on his when his fingers brush heat, and Takeda jerks at the contact and gasps against Ukai’s mouth and then it’s not just Takeda moving, Ukai is rocking up as much as he can, shifting his weight to rock against Takeda while he strokes desperate-quick over the slick hardness of the other’s cock.

They do a terrible job of finding a rhythm. Ukai is barely thinking about his hand at all, just stroking and sliding his fingers in unthinking want, and Takeda is rocking against him and sometimes lifting himself to slide back down by an inch, and Ukai’s just thrusting up as much as he can whenever he can, reaching for the pleasure that is coming inevitably for him. But Takeda is panting against his mouth, his fingers are sliding up to fist in Ukai’s hair, and they’re together in friction and heat and slick skin, pressed close until Ukai can feel the tremor of expectation under Takeda’s skin when he strokes up, can brace the other in place while he slides his thumb up over him to draw him over the edge. Takeda’s spine curves in, his head drops down to Ukai’s shoulder, and when he sighs it sounds like relief in the moment before he shudders and jerks and comes into Ukai’s hand. He loses whatever pattern he had, then, the motion of his hips goes arrhythmic and stuttered, but it doesn’t matter; Ukai can grab at Takeda’s waist again, draw him down while he thrusts up, and it’s hardly any movement but with the aftershocks of pleasure shivering through Takeda’s body it’s more than enough. He’s gasping air, groaning satisfaction while his fingers press tight against Takeda’s skin, and then everything -- the sticky-sweat heat of the air, the ache in his legs, the raw drag of sound in his throat -- fades away into heat, pleasure washing everything else away into insignificance.

Takeda’s stroking against his hair as the aftershocks ease away, trailing his fingers up against the back of Ukai’s neck and ruffling his hair out around his head like a halo. When Ukai looks up his breath catches again, delayed reaction to the delicacy of Takeda’s features without his glasses, the flecks of color in his eyes and the clean line of his cheekbones and the sharp-edged sweep of his nose.

“You,” he starts, and then his mouth slides away from his control, offers, “Are beautiful,” instead of the teasing he had intended to offer.

Takeda blinks down at him, his eyes wide and shocked for a moment. Then he smiles, his whole face glowing with pleasure, and Ukai starts to grin himself even before Takeda pushes his hair back from his face and says, “You too” in tones of irrepressible affection.

He’s in trouble, he knows, he’s never going to regain his control now that it’s lost. But Takeda is smiling at him, is ducking his head for a kiss even though he’s still breathing hard and shuddering, and Ukai stops resisting, and lets his smile curve his lips against Takeda’s.

He’s pretty sure he was doomed from the start, anyway.


End file.
